Highland Spirit

Have I mentioned how proud my dad is of being Scottish. Have I mentioned how he wore his kilt with such pride to Weddings, Burns Suppers, and infact any event where he thought he could get away with it. He stood tall, chest out and puffed up. He was a MacRae. The MacRaes from Inverinate. The MacRaes who are constables of Eilean Donan Castle (the shortbread tin castle). He is a MacRae, the sons of Grace.

If ever there is a rousing spirit of Scotland needed I summon up an image of my dad in his Kilt. My dad, with his American cousins, who are equally, if not more proud of their heritage. The cousins are based in Seattle, but frequently visit and spend time with Dad. In Seattle they run highland dance schools, the local pipe band, and they compete in Highland games.

Whilst the skirl of the pipes may do it for some, for me, this Ancient MacRae Hunting Tartan, and my Dad are all I need to remind me that I am Scottish. Now that's spirit.

My No. 1 boy is not, and so our children can choose their team wisely. I wonder what will charge their spirit in years to come?